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Dualjay, Huff, Skye, and Tyrone were all sitting around a table at Dualjay's house. There was a pile of gifts on the table, but all the focus was on Dualjay. Through the power of getting >double donged, Dualjay had come back to life, and Skye was alive again too for some reason. Though, It wasn't Dualjay's life they were focused on, but the life that was growing inside of his stomach. Being the buttslut Dualjay is, he had gotten pregnant on one of his drunken escapades. If you're wondering how a man can get pregnant, shut up. He had wanted to get an abortion, but Just a Gigolo was the only abortion doctor his medicare covered, and he didn't want Gigolo telling everyone he knew about him getting a butt abortion. He then did the next logical thing, and wore a variety of stylish hats to distract people from his stomach. Unfortunately for Dualjay, stylish hats could only work for so long, and after six or so months, not even the most unusual of hats could distract from his baby belly. "I was so shocked to find out you were pregnant, Dualjay. I should have known from all those hats you were wearing that something was up." Huff said taking a long sip from his teacup. "But why wait so long to tell us? You didn't give me anytime to plan your baby shower." Skye said staring daggers at Dualjay. Skye, as everyone knows, has always taken baby showers very seriously. Dualjay took a deep breath "I just felt so embarrassed that I had gotten pregnant and didn't know who the father was." Huff, trying to quickly change the subject to something happier, pushed one of the wrapped gifts towards Dualjay. "It's time to open your presents, Dualjay. This one is from me." Dualjay took the box and carefully untied the bow. "You did such a nice job wrapping this, I almost don't want to open it." Dualjay said with a light giggle. Tyrone pulled out a gun and placed it on the table. "Open your gifts faster." Dualjay then ripped the paper off quickly, and opened the box. Inside the box Huff gave Dualjay was generic baby supplies. Dualjay wasted no time opening Skye's gift to reveal a carseat for the baby. Dualjay gave both of them a hug and said "Oh you guys, you're so thoughtful." After the hug they all looked at over at Tyrone. "Whatcha all lookin' at you jive turkeys?" Tyrone said folding his arms. "We talked about this Tyrone, you were supposed to use the fifty dollars I gave you to buy Dualjay a gift." Skye said red with anger. Tyrone didn't say anything, he just pulled out another gun, and placed on top of the first gun. "Oh what was that?" Dualjay said with a look of pain and shock on his face. "Is the baby kicking?" Skye replied, placing a hand on his belly. "No, it hurt a lot more than that." Dualjay said trying to stand up. "Uh oh, I think my water just broke." Right as Dualjay said that, a stream of water came down from between his legs. Skye started panicking and running around the room. "Snap out of it, Skye. We have to get Dualjay to the hospital." Huff said slapping Skye in the face. Huff and Skye helped Dualjay up on his feet and started moving him towards the door. "Tyrone, your car is blocking us, you have to move it." Huff shouted at Tyrone. All Tyrone did was pull out another gun and place on top of the two guns form earlier. Huff sighed and moved Dualjay back to the chair. "I guess we'll just have to deliver the baby here if Tyrone is going to be like that." Thankfully, Dualjay was wearing a dress he had borrowed from A 1970's Corvette, so all Huff had to do was take off his underwear to deliver the baby. "Push hard, Dualjay. I can't see anything yet." Huff said from between Dualjay's legs. Dualjay pushed as hard as he could, screaming loudly with each push. "I see the head, it's crowning. Keep pushing, Dualjay!" Huff shouted in between Dualjay's screams. After several pushes, Huff was able pull the baby out of Dualjay's butt. "It's a beautiful baby boy." Huff said handing Dualjay his baby. "Wow, with that afro he looks just like Tyro-" before Dualjay could finish that though, Tyrone had ran out the door, hopped into his 1964 Buick Skylark Sport Wagon, and sped away. They say at night, if you listen closely, you can still hear Tyrone yell "That ain't mah baby!."

god fucking damn it

Part two. Anyway, after closing time last Tuesday, at around seven o’clock, I took the gift shop’s garbage bin down to the trash room, before exiting by the back door. And that’s where I saw it. Him. I don’t know, you tell me. Imagine a man-sized lime green fish. Now imagine its flippers are replaced with arms. Still with flippers or something on the end, but arms. It has two eyes, which are vertically aligned in the center of its “face.” Extending from the top of its head are black ovoid antennae. And to top it all off, it’s floating vertically, its tail fin about three inches off the ground. Exactly what pronoun am I supposed to use here? We stared at each other for a few moments. I felt like a deer in the headlights. The whatever-it-was broke the silence. “Greetings.” Its voice was almost male, but it had an echoing effect to it, as if it was speaking into a bowl. The shock of hearing it actually talk snapped me back into alertness. “Uh… hi?” Sort of. “Would you be so kind as to escort me to a local place of authority?” Did… did the alien just ask me to take it to my leader? Well, I didn’t have any way to talk to the president or anything, but… “I guess I could call the police or something? They might be able to help you.” “I would be grateful.” The thing’s extreme politeness was honestly rather unsettling. I took my cell phone from my pocket, and considered. I didn’t want to call 911- this wasn’t exactly an emergency, and they would probably just think it a prank. I decided to call the actual station instead. After quickly looking up the number, I dialed. “Washington police station, how may I help you?” “Yes, hello, um, do you think you could send a car or two to the back entrance of the Air and Space Museum?“ “I could do that, yes, but why? If it’s an emergency you should have dialed 911.” “Well, I have no idea how to say this without sounding like a crazy person, but… There’s some kind of space-fish-thing here, and it’s talking. I figured 911 would just hang up on me, so I tried the station.” I must have sounded like an idiot or a drunk. In retrospect, I wonder if that made them believe me more or less. “I’ll see what I can do. Stay where you are, and someone will come to pick you up.” Yep, they thought I was drunk. I put the phone away, and turned to the alien. “Well, they said they’d send someone to pick us up. It’ll probably be about five minutes.” “Who will be sent?” Damn it, now I had to explain police to an alien. I’m sure when people thought of first contact, it wasn’t a gift shop employee meeting the alien behind a museum. “The police. They’re law enforcement, and they’ll be able to direct you to the government or whoever you want to talk to.” The alien’s flipper-arms twitched slightly. “Your culture has an organization dedicated to ensuring that its citizens keep to a certain standard?” “Does your culture not have that?” “There are approximately two thousand five hundred of us. Every one of us keeps to a standard taught to us in our formative years, and there is no need for an organization to enforce that.” The idea of a culture that didn’t need law enforcement was pretty interesting- wait a minute. “Did you say two thousand five hundred?” Its head inclined in a brief imitation at a nod. “Yes. How many individuals are in your population?” Holy crap. Twenty-five hundred. That was the extent of their species. I saw more than that in the museum every day. The idea that the first alien species to make contact with us had such a tiny population was mind-boggling. I think I’d have preferred it if there were trillions of them. “…Seven billion. In this city there are about six hundred thousand people.” The alien’s body stilled for a moment, before it recovered. “Astounding. That is two million, eight hundred thousand times that of our number.” At that awkward juncture, a police car pulled slowly into the empty parking lot. The lights were on, but no sirens. The door opened, and- “Greetings.” I’ll be entirely honest. After getting the skeptical treatment from the other end of the phone, I took some vindictive pleasure in seeing the officer frozen, one leg still in his car, staring at the space-fish with his jaw dropped. After a moment, he recovered and reached back into the car for the radio. “Uh, dispatch? You know that museum call you sent me on? The guy you said was probably drunk, said there was an alien?” I knew it. “There actually is some kind of alien here. It’s like a space fish.” Hey, that’s what I said. I wondered if “space fish” would be on the headlines as the cop finished his call and put the radio away. “Well, they said to bring it… him… down to the station, and they’ll get in contact with whoever.” Made sense, and I knew what he’d say next as he turned to me. “I think you’d better come with me too, as a witness.” Yep. I nodded, and got in the back of the car first. The alien followed after me with a prompt from the officer, who then got into the driver’s seat. As we drove to the station, the officer raised another pertinent question. “So… do you have a name?” After a few seconds of silence, I turned to my right. “He’s asking you that.” “My apologies, I did not realize. Yes, my name is Guy Nine-Two-Three.” I had to ask. I knew the number was probably an official designation or something, considering the civilization only had twenty-five hundred, but… “Guy? Your name is Guy?” “In our civilization, our last name is the number we are assigned to keep the society properly organized. We are allowed to choose our first name once we come of age.” I imagine having numbers as last names would make paperwork a lot easier. But still, what are the odds that the first alien humanity ever makes contact with would actually be named Guy? i'm so sorry, guy

So I ended up just starting it on my own. Current word count, 341 (1 page in Word), needs to be 3000/10 or so. Enjoy: The night sky is darker than it used to be. That might sound odd, but it’s the best way I can think of to put this whole mess in perspective. When something big is going on, I like to think of it in small-scale terms. It helps me focus on things. And something really big is going on. It’s been going on for about four months now, and shows no sign of stopping. The stars are vanishing. As in, they’ve apparently ceased to exist. It started, as I said, about four months ago. A small page on an astronomy Internet forum noted, almost casually, that one of the stars in the Big Dipper, the one on the end of the handle named Alkaid, couldn’t be seen for some reason. The general consensus seemed to be that it wasn’t a big deal. Maybe there was just something blocking the view between Earth and Alkaid. About two weeks later, Cassiopeia vanished, all five stars of it. That raised some eyebrows. NASA and ESA both released statements that were, basically, “hell if we know.” Still, there wasn’t too much in the way of concern until the North Star of all things blinked out about a month ago. That got everyone in a tizzy. Predictably, conspiracy theorists loved it. I wonder if they would actually be happy about dying in an alien invasion or something. Would they grin and say, we told you so? I mean, as last words go, those are actually pretty decent, but still. I think I’d prefer living. Speaking of me, you’re probably wondering where I fit in all of this. So am I. My name is Simon. I’d rather not tell you my last name. I work at the Air and Space Museum in Washington. If you think that’s cool, I should probably mention I work the gift shop, which is significantly less cool. It is pretty funny to see them selling “updated” star charts though. What, did someone just get a black marker and cover up a few spots? Ideas for the rest: I'm secretly harboring an alien. He looks like my avatar (so a space-fish in a borrowed trenchcoat) He's not an invader, he's a refugee because his planet was near one of those stars and it vanished, so his home planet sent a bunch of "ambassadors" out to find a place they can live. Now I've got to figure out if the government would pull a District 9 on them. also I need two names for the alien- his "alien" name and the name I'd call him for lack of being able to pronounce said alien name.

WAT Elder dragons, bitches! Also, people are saying that's Tasigur around his neck. Which I think is amazing and hilarious.

http://puu.sh/giHxS/3d0001fa3a.webm

Part four. Final part to be tomorrow, and also three hundred words at most. I need a closing idea. The chief nodded to himself. “Right. I’m going to go inside and make some phone calls- how the politicians take this ought to be worth a laugh. In the meantime, Guy here can come inside, and we can at least make sure this doesn’t turn into a media storm before anyone’s ready for it. That work for you?” Guy nodded again. Now that I thought about it, it picked up human mannerisms impressively quickly. It had barely been an hour overall, and it already understood nodding. “And as for you,” he turned to me. “In any other situation, I’d be telling one of the guys to give you a lift home, and telling you not to worry. But…” He scratched his head, like he was trying to figure out how to word his next sentence. “I think it would be better if, for the moment, you stayed here. Our new friend seems to like you, and the last thing I want to do is offend the first alien we meet. The station has a few overnight rooms for guests that aren’t criminals. I’ll have someone drive you back to your place if you want to pick a few things up. I promise it won’t be more than a day or so.” I had a feeling he would say something like that, but it didn’t make it any less worrying to hear. But I understood where he was coming from, and at the same time I was already kind of growing to like Guy. On the other hand, well… “I get what you’re saying, but… I work at the museum, and I am on shift tomorrow. Is there any way I can call them and explain this without sounding crazy… or like I’ve been detained by the police for bad reasons?” I could picture that phone call. Um, boss? I can’t come in to work tomorrow. I have to spend the day at the police station. I met an alien The chief nodded. “I’ll call them personally.” Then he grinned. “Who knows, you might end up getting a job as a go-between. It would probably look great if the first person to make contact with an alien became that alien’s ambassador or something.” Oh, hell. I’m not sure I wanted that. I considered my next words carefully. “I’d appreciate the call, thanks. If you can get someone to drive me back to my apartment, I can get an overnight bag ready pretty quickly.” The chief nodded, waving one of the officers over. I noticed that Guy had been standing – floating – there for the whole conversation without saying anything. I called out to him, waving. “I’ll be back before long, Guy.” Guy waved back. Well, with that goodbye, I couldn’t possibly leave it hanging. The ensuing drive to my apartment, assembly of clothes and toiletries, and drive back, was just plain weird. The officer driving me only said two things: “Address?” and “You have twenty minutes.” I was done in twelve. By the time the car had pulled into the station again, I had mostly processed the insanity that the last three hours or so had been. I had met an alien, accompanied it to a police station, agreed to spend the night at said station, and was fairly likely to end up losing my job. It wasn’t exactly the greatest job, and it was mostly a holdover until I could get more permanent work, but still. I think it was the job that freaked me out the most. If something big is happening, I try to look at the smaller details. It helps me keep a personal perspective. If I have to complain about something, I complain about the small things while keeping calm about the bigger things. Well, now the small thing was that I might lose my job, and the big thing was that there was alien life and I was the first person to meet it. In what universe does losing a job count as the small problem? I took a few deep breaths, and thought about the positives. I met an alien. And it’s a sentient, sapient alien. That was actually pretty cool, especially the sapient part. The alien wasn’t some incomprehensible bug-thing, or microbes on Mars. It could communicate and we understood each other. The alien seems to think of me as a friend. That was flat out awesome. I’m the first person to befriend an alien. The alien’s name is Guy. That was just funny. First contact. The first life discovered that wasn’t born on Earth. And it was named Guy, of all things. That’s what influenced my choice the most, honestly. I wanted to know more about an alien named Guy. I wanted to know about where he came from.

What.

I found Stamda